Reflections
by olafpriol
Summary: On a calm day after escaping from the metropolis of Water Seven the strawhats find themselves in unusual circumstances of weather and fortune, but are unaware as to the toll their circumstances will have on a certain blondehaired chef...
1. Chapter 1: A quiet day

My very first attempt a fanfiction! Please review if you see fit, and I appologise in advance for my poor writing skills, so forgive me if it's not very good. Rated T due to some violence, especially in the third chapter, though nothing overtly graphic or beyond what One Piece normally entails. A SanjixNami piece.

* * *

It was a quiet day. Normally on the sea, one would hardly find this unusual, but then, the Grand Line is hardly a normal sea, nor was the Thousand Sunny to be considered a normal ship. Especially considering its crew. 

Say you were introduced to a group of people, eight in all, that manned a ship and sailed the oceans in search of adventures and dreams. Perhaps not so very strange for this area of the world in the great age of pirates. However, say that amongst them, one resembled, not so much a man, but a small teddy bear, or on occasion a deer, and then at other times a yeti. Say that another stood at least a head taller than the tallest human, with a metallic nose, wearing nothing save a pair of Speedos and a loud Hawaiian shirt. Already you might be feeling a little surprised, and, in turning to the crewmates with a more ordinary appearance, you soon find yourself amongst a cat burgling navigator, a three-sword wielding samurai, a woman who blooms hands and a boy who can stretch like rubber. There then remain two in whom you may regard some more common aspects, perhaps with the exception of the shorter man's nose, being as it is of extraordinary length. Speak to each though, and you may discover to your unending disconcertion, that while one is at the same time a liar, a marvellous sharpshooter, inventor and uncommonly brave coward, the other is smooth, sweet, dangerous and clever, whilst instantly transforming into a lovesick idiot at the merest mention or sight of beautiful women, especially the aforementioned cat-burglar. Encountering a group such as this, most people would happily give in on what little hold logic still had on them, and either flee in terror, or join in with a game that seemed to largely consist of sticking chopsticks up your nose and holding them in place with your lower lip. Either way, the Strawhats were not, under any circumstances, to be a regarded as normal.

Still, the fact remained, it was a quiet day. The sea as smooth as glass, with the faintest tickle of a breeze easing the sails into a shallow curve, pushing the hull along the shining surface of the water in a half-hearted manner, as if reluctant to break the near-perfect flatness of the aquamarine water.  
On deck the grass (for you must remember, the Thousand Sunny was as curious as its Nakama) rippled easily, as if sighing in great relief at the rare tranquillity which had fallen. The pirate thief drifted a lazy finger over the blades, her hand dangling off the side of a sun-chair which Franky had summoned from his workroom in an instant, and though the construction was sound, the cloth perfectly cut and sewn, she knew he had made it in less than a minute. A cyborg carpenter sure was a useful addition to the team. The other members of the Strawhat crew were scattered about on the deck in a similar fashion, doused in the sense of calm that was so refreshing a change after their ordeal at Enis Lobby; even the irrepressible captain was quiet, fast asleep on the figurehead lion, which had fast become his favourite resting spot. Nami smiled, remembering him lounging on the sheep's head of the Going Merry, she blinked a little, her eyes moistening slightly. The new ship was magnificent, and doubtless there was the spirit of their old ship somehow imbued in the very hull of this craft, but no-one had yet to really recover from losing their home. Turning on her side she could see smoke drifting out from the chimney of the galley- even with the calm weather, it seemed Sanji was already at work, doing what he loved best; cooking for his friends.  
He had immediately fallen for the new kitchen, and it was with some reluctance that he had left it after his first inspection. His eagerness to prepare their lunch was hardly unexpected. Although she felt a little guilty for it, she was glad he was working for the moment; when it came to being around Sanji, a quiet moment was difficult to find with his gushing compliments and enthusiastic appraisal. She enjoyed it, but for now, all she wanted to do was listen to the silence. Her eyes closed slowly, and her mind meandered into dreaming as she thought about their blonde chef, wondering if he was really always going to be so kind to her; she didn't really mind him, in fact, she was really very fond of him, even if he was a complete dolt sometimes. She often thought of being nicer to him, if only it wouldn't cause even more proclamations of 'mellorine!'

* * *

This self-same dolt was currently checking tentatively on a lamb stew, withdrawing his finger from his mouth with a satisfied expression at the result. The meat was so tender it was almost competing with the velvety consistency of the sauce, the vegetables contributing subtle aromas to the air, mixing with the select spices he'd added. This was something special; their first proper meal onboard their ship. After fleeing Garp they had run into some heavy weather, and keeping a constant look-out combined with learning where everything was on the craft had meant he hadn't been able to prepare anything like this before now. The stew had been steaming away since long before breakfast, and the side dishes and dessert were all but finished now. Turning about to a fresh surface he briskly started on the cocktails, and, having found a goodly supply of pineapples in the storeroom, set about making Nami's favourite- a pinacolada with a drizzle of honey and a pinch of cinnamon. Of course, he would make sure to include Robin's coffee with the dessert, made with the utmost care, but, as he blended the various liquids with flair and skill, anyone who had happened to be watching could not have missed the dedication in his actions, or the soft smile that curled its way around his features- not the wild eyed dazzle that he flashed at her whenever he could, but a warm, gentle smile of pure affection. It was involuntary. He only thought of her happiness, and that was enough.

* * *

Back on deck Nami had awoken due to a sudden change of climate, namely in the form of a shadow that had fallen across her. Muttering sleepily and irritably at having had her sunbathing interrupted she recognised the silhouette as that of the ship's historian. 

"Oh, hello Robin," she yawned, a little surprised- it was usually Luffy or one of the boys who managed to wake her up, be it during an afternoon nap or at three in the morning.  
"Hello Navigator-san, I'm sorry for disturbing you, only I feel I should mention something about our present situation."

Sitting up the orange-haired girl looked at Robin with polite confusion.

"You mean there's something wrong?" She checked her wrist, "but, we're still on course, see? The log-pose is pointing the same direction as the ship, the wind's hardly changed since I fell asleep, there aren't any waves to speak of…"

The elegant dark-eyed woman nodded in assent.

"Yes, that is so, and that is one of the reasons that leads me to believe that this may not be as safe a situation as it may seem." In response to Nami's questioning face she continued; "What do you make of the sea at the moment, Navigator-san?"  
"Well, it's… calm, flat. Almost like glass!"

She was prompted to continue by Robin's inclined head.

"Flat ocean… but, we're nowhere near the calm belt, Water Seven is directly in the centre of the Grand Line, so it can't be that. Besides, there's at least a tiny breeze, so we're still moving. Hmm, what did I say before...? Like glass? Like…" Nami's hazel brown eyes widened a little as realization dawned on her, "like glass!"

Robin nodded again, "or rather, like a _looking_-glass."

* * *

Zoro had been sure that he had fallen asleep with his back up against the rail, but as he blinked his way sleepily into consciousness he found himself lying on the grass. 

"Huh?"

"Oh _finally_, honestly Zoro, you could sleep through a hurricane!"  
"He did, if you remember, when we first got off Reverse Mountain?"  
"Oh yeah! Ha ha! Come on sleepy!"

Pushing himself into a sitting position the green-haired swordsman glowered at his unruly captain, who was grinning like a monkey, befitting his name.

"Who moved me? What's going on?"

Nami threw a thumb at Franky and Usopp.

"Those two managed to lug your useless butt down here, though how they did it I'll never know, you weigh a tonne! It's just as well you're awake so I can explain…"  
"You don't want to move me when I'm sleeping," he growled, interrupting her, "I might not think before I act if I'm half asleep."

Usopp gave an anxious sort of yelp and hid behind Franky.  
"H-he did most of the w-work!"  
Franky rolled his eyes; "Yeah, I know."

Nami's fist rapped Zoro smartly on the head before he could get any further.

"We had to get you away from the side you silly great lump, and if you'll let Robin get a word in edge-ways you'll be able to know why."

Stepping aside Nami let Robin take up the speaking role as the others looked to her with inquiring faces. Gathered as they were around a small coffee table, she placed a tome bound in a flaking green leather cover on the surface and ran her finger over a section below a page entitled 'the Mirror Sea'.

"I have reason to believe that we may have entered a very unusual area of the Grand Line. All things considered, anything unusual on these seas may as well be counted as normal, but this particular phenomenon still has no explanation or clear documentation. As it is, this is the only piece of information I have about it. This is from the log of a captain who lived about one hundred and seventy years before us; if you listen I'm sure you will see it is relevant, and interesting."

The crew listened intently as the raven-haired woman began to read...

* * *

'A singularly intriguing yet horrifying spectacle was related to us by the remaining survivors of the crew of that most unfortunate ship,_the Flying Verne_, as we had found them victims of a tempest of the previous week, clinging to the remains of a mast and canvas. When asked as to the nature of the disaster, we were astonished to hear that the storm alone had not been the cause of their calamity.  
All men told the same story and swore it true as to make them blind. First, all had been peaceful, the ocean uncommonly calm and flat, so as to make it so shimmering and smooth as polished silver. Looking out at this wondrous sight, some of the crew had gone so far as to lower a rowing boat down to see it the better. Aboard the main-ship all was well, until cries of alarm from the five that had descended caused all hands to come running to their aid. On raising the boat once more from the sea more confusion and alarm was caused, as what seemed to be five pairs of identical twins were wrestling each other in furious grips, one with deadly intent, the other with horror in his eyes. On being hauled back up to the deck, the twins broke apart, with five scattering themselves slaying as they went, the remaining five (which can be supposed to be the original men), lying mangled, breathless or dead upon the planks. Their comrades, full of consternation, asked the living what had occurred. Here it becomes unclear what the response was, as the ship gave a violent lurch to Starboard, though it is said a man recalls hearing someone say "from the water, out of my own face, my reflection…" 

Now the captain was a sensible fellow, but with this sudden turbulence and the appearance of a fog, it was all his maddened senses could do to direct him running to where his wife was residing out of concern for her safety. It is said that though the woman was no great beauty, she had a great fondness of looking upon her visage in a looking glass kept in her boudoir. Upon reaching her room he called and knocked and called again at her door, until to his utmost relief she did appear. Expressing his relief and his exasperation at the situation he went to embrace her, but found himself staggered back, his wife's paper cutting knife protruding from his chest, the hilt proud up to his sternum. Falling back with death upon him he could see, to his disbelief, his wife, both standing in the door smiling down at him as his life left him, and at the same time lying dead herself on the floor or her room, the mirror she was so fond of still held in one unfeeling hand's grasp. All this was related by the first mate, who had been at his side, but on seeing such peculiarities and with the intense bucking of the ship, he fled to the deck. A great storm had arisen, and for some reason (supposedly one of the five demons that had boarded them), _the Flying Verne_ was listing full into the wind, spiralling around and leaning crazily into each damning wave that befell her. It was not long before she succumbed to the tempest.

What we were to make of these seemingly fantastic tales, I am not sure, but be them dreams, nightmares or, more frightening still, actualities, I list them here for all. This, the Mirror Sea, or what you will, has since been mentioned to me as similar to tales heard by others. Though all in different places and in different eras, all hold similar causes and consequences. All is by word alone, however, no documentation or investigation having been truly demonstrated before this, and I have not the heart to seek out this monstrous phenomenon myself, lest I fall victim to my own face.

* * *

There was a silence for some several moments after this reading, each crewmember looking at the book on the table, some with apprehension, some with awe, and yet others (namely those with horns or long noses), who clung to each other with mouths agape and screams of panic issuing thereof. Luffy, however, was clapping the soles of his sandals together, gazing with wide eyed joy at the pages in front of them. 

"AWESOME! I'm going to look over the si-OW!"  
He looked up at Nami ruefully, rubbing his head where she had just landed an extremely solid punch.

"Hey, Nami! What was that for?!" He complained, pouting.  
"You go anywhere NEAR that rail, and I'll make sure that your reflection doesn't kill you, because I'LL get there FIRST!"  
"Yeah Luffy, imagine what another one of you could do to our ship!"  
"Even if it _wasn't_ bent on destroying us," Zoro pointed out dryly.

The navigator crossed her arms and glared about her fiercely.

"That goes for all of you; don't go anywhere near the sides, just in case you catch a sight of your own reflection, and don't look in any mirrors either. By what it sounds like, this is serious, although it doesn't say how long the Mirror Sea appears for, so we'll just have to sit it out..."  
"Actually, by all accounts, it's a fairly temporary occurrence," Robin interjected, "which is partly why it's largely unrecorded and unheard of, apart from rumours of course."

Usopp sighed; "Well, at least we all know about it now, so we're safe…"  
"Hey, what about Sanji?" Chopper chipped in, looking about at the seven of them, "didn't you think to get him?" The others looked at Nami inquiringly.

Nami smiled reassuringly, "it's okay Chopper, he's in the kitchen, he said he was making a stew this morning, and they can take hours, so he'll be keeping an eye on that. Don't worry, we'll tell him if he comes out."

Robin cocked an eyebrow subtley at the cartographer, _strange, I don't recall him ever telling us, though from the smell she must be right, and Navigator-san knows how long it takes to make a stew… she's been paying attention to Cook-san quite keenly_… If Nami had noticed her reaction, she didn't pay any attention to it.

"Besides, look! Here's the fog. It'll be over soon, doctor."

Sure enough a pale mist had quietly descended on the ship, not yet thick enough to count itself as a fully grown fog, rather it was as if a cloud had floated down to sit about the sails and rigging, the moisture damping down the wooden deck and removing the warmth it had absorbed from the sun that morning. The slight chill made Chopper apprehensive despite Nami's confidence, and he moved to hold onto Franky's leg. Even Zoro felt slightly uneasy, his hand going unconsciously to the hilts of the katana at his waist.

The eerie quietness seemed to envelop them.

When the door opened from the galley, even the swordsman jumped slightly at the sudden disturbance of sound and movement, but quickly turned his face to a soured frown at the appearance of the cook bearing a tray of cocktails, each elaborately dressed, complete with umbrellas and slices of coconut and pineapple.

"Feh, little early for those isn't it, love-cook?" He snorted brashly. It was only a little before eleven in the morning, what was the idiot doing bringing them these now? He usually saved them as appetizers for the midday meal… And yet…  
"Oooh! Nice one Sanji!" Luffy called out enthusiastically, no less optimistic than usual, and always eager for a treat, particularly the edible kind.  
"Hey, if you're serving snacks can I have some meat?!"

Nami turned around to say hello and explain what was going on, bracing herself for an onslaught of overly amorous behaviour as was customary, but her tongue was arrested. There was something a little… odd, about the way he was walking.

Normally he would sort of glide when he walked, leaning back slightly with his hips out at the front, feet swinging easily dressed in those neat dark shoes of his. With someone else's proportions the effect might have been ungainly, but as it was with his long, black-trousered legs the result was quite graceful. Mentally Nami blushed- she hadn't realised she'd paid so much attention to how he walked, but now… it was, well, it wasn't Sanji's walk. His was stiffer, the tray held slightly more tensely than normal, held just in front of his chest with his right hand, as opposed to out at the side like he usually held it. When he served drinks he moved slickly yet so effortlessly, so that not so much as a drop would escape a glass, whether he was moving across a beach with his feet sinking into the sand, or if the ship were pitching to and fro like a rocking horse. He seemed to have a perfect sense of balance, yet here it looked as if he was making a very conscious effort to stay perpendicular to the floor.

"Sanji…?" She ventured.  
The others must have seen something strange about his gait as well, as no-one said anything as they watched him approach the table, slowly, but without breaking his measured pace. Placing the tray onto the table, he picked up one of the drinks. Zoro noted this. Again, unusual- normally he would pass them about to everyone from the tray, what was up with him today?

One hand about the glass, his left up about his chest, his thumb hooked through his tie in a relaxed manner, he turned smoothly to look at Nami. For an instant she was worried he was going to go into another of his long schpiels about love and her beauty and the stars and all that nonsense, or at least, she almost hoped that was what he was going to do, for when he looked at her now he wasn't the same goof with his open flamboyance and extravagant compliments. Her fingers stumbled to take the glass being proffered to her; she was getting a little scared now. Everyone, even Luffy, was looking at the pair with silent bewilderment. When he spoke his voice was perfectly normal, his usual comforting, mellifluous tones, but the question was a strange one.

"Would you try some, please, Nami-san?"

The redhead blinked in confusion, what else was she meant to do with it? Perturbed, she hesitated, looking into his one visible eye. Did she see it flicker? No, he was looking perfectly normal. Perfectly normal; just her imagination, must have been. She took a sip. She hadn't even looked at the cocktails, as occupied as she had been with watching this sudden alteration in behaviour, but from the taste she instantly recognised it as her favourite, mixed to perfection, with a balmy addition of a coconut milk and caramel syrup, something she hadn't tasted before. The cinnamon danced on her tongue, lingering with the aftertaste and the acidity of the pineapple for a moment longer, as the drink chased its way down her throat. It was undoubtedly the best drink she had ever had.

Aware of eyes upon her, and one in particular complete with its swirling eyebrow, she managed to respond.

"It's beautiful Sanji." She took his pause for incredulity and flustered. "Really, I mean it. I-it's, it's delicious, thank you, very much."

* * *

There was a ripple of surprise from the crew at what happened next, and Nami almost dropped the precious article in amazement, as a single, cut-crystal tear traced its way down the cook's cheek, and undeniably now there was a flicker of his eye as he replied quietly.  
"You're welcome, Nami." 

He smiled at her.

Then he fell.

* * *

Several things can happen in the space of time that it takes a man to fall. For example, a woman can realise that a man has been genuinely in love with her since the moment her saw her. Equally, a woman can realise that she is in love with a man, though she might not have allowed admittance to the fact, least of all to herself, until then. A storm can break, and, in the event of the man falling forwards, black suit crumpling down with him as some sort of grotesque parody of a puppet with its strings suddenly cut from above it, his back can be exposed to the sight of his friends, revealing the oak handle of a very well kept, sharpened kitchen knife, the blade completely hidden from view encased as it is within his body.  
The reason he had been keeping his arm up towards his front was now evident, as the metal blade protruded some two centimetres out from his breast, a spreading rose of blood dampening the fabric of his lapels, turning them a darker shade of black. 

Events seemed to move very quickly but in slow motion at the same time. Somebody yelled, another screamed, a clap of thunder followed a blinding flash of lightning just off the port bow. An arm blossomed out from the table to catch the drink falling from Nami's paralysed hands. Someone was running to the kitchen whilst others began moving about, chaos reining supreme. Everything was movement and sound, noise and motion.

There were only two people who didn't move.

As the ship listed to starboard with the sudden violent collisions of increasingly high waves, one was stirred to action, brushing hair and saltwater out of her eyes. Above the raging of the maelstrom there was the confusion of shouted directions, a cry for the doctor, and beyond that, all was storm and salt.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed the first chapter! All characters are property of One Piece, Shonen Jump graphic novels, and Eiichiro Oda. 


	2. Chapter 2: An unfamiliar ceiling

The second chapter, please enjoy, and any feedback is greatly appreciated.

* * *

A hazy ceiling and the faint sound of an oil lantern creaking as it swung about easily greeted Sanji two days later. Accompanying that was a soft, dull ache, somewhere to the left of his chest. He couldn't tell if it hurt more or less than before, he couldn't remember, but it hurt, so he tried not to think about it. His breathing was shallow; moving his ribs didn't seem like a good idea, so he kept as still as he could. Looking down his nose he could see the length of his body, his left arm in a cast and his right leg bound and bandaged; he'd forgotten about those, good thing their doctor was better at this sort of thing than most people, he sighed regretfully at his arm. He looked up again. An unfamiliar ceiling. Not that he was very used to the ship yet. He assumed this was the infirmary, turning his head to the right trying to focus on the room. Strange, it didn't look like an infirmary. Blurry as it was, he could make out a desk, some shelves far to the back of the left wall, some sort of rug on the floor, another bed lying parallel to his about a foot away… It resembled the men's quarters only it was smaller. _Hmm, maybe it's somewhere for guests. The ship's big enough to be a hotel_... He rolled his head in the other direction, blinking in an attempt to clear his vision. It didn't seem to have worked, for when he looked this time he couldn't see anything except orange. _Crap, I messed up my eyesight real bad; hope Chopper can do something about that. Funny sort of place, it smells kinda like_... Here he stopped. He was fairly sure his heart stopped as well. 

Tangerines.

Whether it was his freezing on the spot that caused her to move he didn't know, but when Nami rolled sleepily to face towards him his heart made such a jump that a lance of pain jarred through his chest. He inadvertently yelped at the pain and shock, bringing her to complete wakefulness.

"Sanji-kun?!"

He tried to push himself off the bed but nearly fainted. Had he really lost that much strength?

"Don't move you idiot, I'll get Chopper in here, I said don't move! Wait here." She pushed on his forehead assertively but gently for a moment to make him lie still, then ran out of the door. It is useless to attempt to recount the thoughts (and indeed, the number of them), that ran through Sanji's mind during the interlude that she was gone, but two main points were those of _I'm alive_, which, so far, he had managed to avoid noticing, and the second;_she's alright, she's safe._

A little under thirty seconds later Nami reappeared with Chopper in tow, complete in nightshirt- it appeared he'd chosen an inconvenient hour to regain consciousness. He was about to apologise but a fierce look from Nami made it evident that speaking wasn't allowed. He lay quite still as Chopper made his inspection, occasionally reeling off some information about his health status. Sanji's head was swimming, it hurt to try and listen, so he let himself stare at the ceiling, trying to get his eyes to focus on a knot of wood in one of the planks.

"Sanji…? Sanji?"

Chopper was asking him something.

"Hmm? Sorry?"

"I said how do you feel?"

Sanji related where he could feel pain, and mentioned his eyesight being blurry, but he didn't think he could even begin to explain how he felt at the moment. Chopper nodded satisfactorily, an expression of slightly relieved concern on his face.

"Good, nothing unexpected… You're incredibly lucky though, another millimetre or two to the right, and that knife would have gone straight into your heart. It was touch and go as it was, operating in that storm… For a moment I didn't think you'd make it…"

Nami gave an inadvertent twitch, Sanji pretended he hadn't noticed. He smiled at the little reindeer.

"Well, just as well you're a genius. Thank you, doctor."

Chopper skipped a pace back from the bed, scuffing his hooves and pulling his hat over his eyes, proclaiming Sanji to be a bastard and telling him to "shut up, idiot," whilst smiling from ear to ear.

He disappeared around the door, still admonishing the bedridden cook; "and don't try to move for at least another day, alright baka-cook?"

Sanji made a noise of assent, looking back at the ceiling. He couldn't understand it, he was here, in Nami's room, on Nami's_ bed_, and he didn't understand why or how, but he just couldn't bring himself to look at her. Perhaps she understood, because she sat down on the edge of the bed next to him. She was facing away, but it wasn't an unfriendly gesture.

They were silent for a several moments.

"You really scared us back then."

"Sorry."

She pushed down on his forehead with her knuckles in a very gentle punch.

"Moron."

He gave a quiet smirk of rueful laughter. Then the silence resumed. It wasn't uncomfortable, but Sanji's question was burning almost as much as his cheeks.

"Nami-san… why am I in your room?"

She shifted a little nervously, "because… because I asked Chopper if you could stay in my bed, instead of the infirmary," she replied in an embarrassed tone. Sanji kept looking at the ceiling. He was forcing himself to breath slowly, trying to get his heart to stay at a normal pace, leaping as it was against his ribs like a moth fluttering at a lit candle.

He didn't know how long they didn't speak for that time. It felt like hours and seconds at the same time, but eventually he realised that he was being selfish.

"It's night, Nami-san, I woke you up… you should get some rest."

He chanced to look at her sideways; she nodded, looking at him with a little smile. He felt more alive than ever to see her smile again.

"If you can move me onto the floor then…"

"No. You're not allowed to move, by Chopper's and my own orders."

"But Nami… at least, surely you could ask him to..."

Nami stood up, walked around to the left side of the bed, and climbed on, lying next to him again. Even though his skin was normally pale anyway, had she happened to look at the blonde cook lying next to her at that moment, she would have had difficulty differentiating between the pallor of his face and the white sheets about him.

"Goodnight Sanji."

She pulled the sheets up about her. He forced himself to swallow the shaking in his voice, and responded as evenly as he could, looking at his unfamiliar ceiling.

"Goodnight, Nami."

* * *

Chopper had just made his report to the captain and Zoro, who were now lounging against the rail, looking at a cloudless sky scattered with pinpoints of brilliant light laid out in intricate, unfathomable constellations. 

"So, the idiot's not dead. That's good, I guess."

Luffy grinned back, "Hee, yeah, I don't want to get another cook."

Zoro snorted derisively.

They looked at the sky a while longer. It was Zoro who spoke first again.

"I have to admit, that freaked me out."

"Oh? What did?"

"Going into the kitchen and seeing… well, that."

Luffy pondered on this for a moment, then his face cleared into beaming comprehension.

"Oh, yeah! That," he laughed heartily, "Yeah that was pretty scary, I thought he was dead!"

"He _was_ dead, you moron," Zoro sighed over his captain's laughter; sometimes he really was difficult to understand.

"Oh, I meant Sanji!"

"I _know_ what you meant! I was… Urgh, never-mind. If that fool's managed to survive then I'm off to bed…" He turned and began to saunter off to the stairs.

"You couldn't sleep because you were worried about him."

The green-haired swordsman stopped in his tracks and looked at Luffy shrewdly. It hadn't been a question. He looked at the young boy in the straw hat, sitting on the rail, staring at the stars. Once again it seemed Monkey D. Luffy had hidden depths.

Turning on his heel he gave his characteristic sneer.

"Captain or not, you tell anyone and I'll kill you. Got that?"

Luffy just grinned.

* * *

Back in the men's quarters Zoro was greeted by the heavy, rhythmic snoring of Franky and Usopp. His nose rankled as he slung himself onto his mattress; Usopp alone had been bad enough, but with Franky's cavernous, metallic chest the ambience of their sleeping quarters was far from musical as it reverberated with their snores. Crossing his arms behind his neck he tried to let himself unwind a little; that stupid yellow-haired dartboard was fine, the idiot, making him stress out like that for two days. Some people were just plain inconsiderate. Stretching out on the bed he toyed with the idea of getting changed, then dismissed it, feeling the drowsiness his pent up anxiety had suppressed for over forty-eight hours catching up on him. His eyes closed blearily as he heard rain start up outside. It hissed softly against the canvas of the sails. Hissed… it reminded him of the sound of cooking…

Thoughts of food and fire slalomed in and out of his mind as he drifted into a blue sleep.

* * *

A short chapter, I know, but the next will be fairly long, and I felt this acted sufficiently well as punctuation. Again, all reviews and advice are very welcome. 

Characters property of One Piece.


	3. Chapter 3: 'Out of my own face'

pThird chapter. Quite a long one, but with a lot of effort put into it, as it consists largely of action sequences. Hard to write for me, considering this is a first-timer, and I'm more used to having to write essays! Quite a bit of violence, so, you've been warned, and I'm a biology nerd as well so look at out for that if you don't like medical terms.

* * *

_Two days ago. 10:23 AM._

Sanji stood back and assessed his work critically. The eight cocktails stood, each one a radiant work of culinary passion, yet he was not satisfied. Casting an eye towards the stove he noted the stew was bubbling a little too fervently. Walking over to the pot his eyes caught the array of knives hanging from the wall in a neat and orderly way, each set next to its partner in size and form, all finely ground to a perfect edge. He noticed a smear of something on his right cheek in the reflection of one of the larger ones. He wiped it away with the corner of his apron as he proceeded to turn the heat down.

"Tsk, getting careless. Now, what's missing…?"

He stood in thought facing down the galley away from where he had been walking.

"Perhaps a little vanilla? No, no, I don't want to overdo it, it might compete with the cinnamon… ah!" He clicked his fingers as his revelation came to him in remembering the small bottle of special syrup he had saved since buying it in Arabasta. Beginning to head towards the cupboard where he kept such select items he paused as he heard a chink of metal, like that of blades against each other. Suddenly he flushed with indignance. That marimo! What right did he have playing with those foolish swords in his kitchens?! He turned about furiously to give the samurai a taste of what a kitchen meant to a chef, but stopped, paralyzed with surprise and horror at the surreal sight that greeted him.

It was not Zoro.

His first thought was that this was a dream- certainly it would explain the calm day and the quiet about the ship this morning. Surely, he must still be asleep, how else could he explain the fact that one of his knives had thrown itself to the floor and, out of its shining façade, was producing what looked remarkably like his hand.

It was unmistakable- as it emerged it was silvery and metallic, but soon the soft, pale colour of his flesh appeared, the vivid, striped blue of his shirt cuff, the polished finish of his suit's buttons on the black-as-night sleeve. He had something of an inclination to check his own hand to see it was still attached to him, but somehow he knew that, as much as this looked like him, it was as far from him as anything could be, human or no. The arm continued to grow like some monstrous plant out of the blade on the floor, eventually coming to the shoulder, and, as his own head and shoulders dragged themselves out into existence, Sanji knew by the convulsion that ran up his spine, that this was no dream. He'd encountered so many fantastic and horrific things on these seas that he knew the feeling of encountering a living nightmare far too well to dismiss it as fiction. As the duplicate hauled his twinned black legs out from the cutting edge Sanji calmly untied the strings at the back of his apron, neatly folded the garment, and placed it besides the cutting board to his left.

Standing facing each other as they were, if another person had walked in they may well have had good reason for imagining that the cook was facing a mirror without edges, so remarkable was their similarity. Save for the impostor's hair covering his right eye instead of his left, the two were impossible to tell apart. Each one a perfect mirror image of the other. They looked at one another for a little while, Sanji viewing the newcomer as one might survey a rather boring painting.

"Hello."

Said Sanji.

"Hello."

Said his reflection.

Withdrawing a cigarette from his suit's pocket the blonde chef held it out smoothly to light it on the fire of the stove.

"So, can I fix you a snack? Or should I introduce you as my newfound identical brother to the crew?"

The mirror-man smiled crookedly, Sanji knew that face; he used it when he was contemplating exactly how to kill someone. He hadn't realised how unnerving it looked, and noted it for future reference.

"No thanks, I think I'll keep it our little secret," he saw himself straighten his tie, "that'd be more fun, don't you think?"

Placing the cigarette to his lips Sanji took a long drag and blew the smoke out towards his twin so that it spiralled around him. He smiled back.

"No. I don't think so, actually."

There was a momentary pause. Then it was as if two black leopards had sprung to clash with each other head on, lithe and powerful. Kicks flew, none connected, each matched for strength and speed. Knowing all of his own moves Sanji reeled and ducked, back flipped and arched around the moves that were so familiar to him, yet so alien to be receiving, each delivered with his own surgical precision. _I've not had to do this since old Zeff was teaching me…huh! If he could see me now!_ He aimed a blow to the cheek whilst swiftly leaning to the side to avoid one to his abdomen, _even that old crap-geezer wouldn't believe this!_

The two locked legs, suddenly motionless, testing each other for balance and perseverance. Sanji smiled through gritted teeth, feeling drops of sweat beginning to form on his brow.

"Heh, bit pointless, isn't it? We're exactly the same!"

The mirror-man merely returned his smile.

"Quit talking to yourself, love-cook."

They broke apart, then tore into each other once more. As his reflection sent a 'poitrine treader' towards him he recognised his own exposed stance as he dodged and swung out towards his twin's hips with a ferocious 'selle' kick.

It felt strange to see his own body flying away from him, flipping in midair to land in a skidding crouch along the galley in front of him. He extended the opportunity to take a breath.

"Talking to myself, am I? You'd claim to be me? Huh, your impression's lousier than Bon Clay's party piece."

"I can't be that bad then, he almost got you with his pretty girl act, didn't he?"

Sanji flushed red, and saved his choice words for later as he flung a new barrage of kicks at the man in the suit and blonde hair. He had to finish this quickly, and quietly; he couldn't afford his crew being brought into this. He narrowly avoided a stabbing move to his face. _If the others came in on this, they might not be able to tell which one was me for a moment, even with the hair…_He blocked another savage kick on his left shin… _a moment might be enough for him to hurt someone, I'll never let that happen, not to my Nakama…Not to…_

"Your dear Nami-san," came a mocking rendition of his voice.

Sanji faltered as his thought was finished out loud by his opponent. It was a bad move to make; he was caught full on in the ribs. He was so winded he didn't even hear his own voice laughing at him as he realised the full impact of one of his own kicks for the first time. Somehow managing to twist himself about he landed on his hands, flipping upright to glower with incredulity at the enemy.

"You… know what I'm thinking?"

"I can guess pretty accurately," the impostor smirked back.

_He can guess what moves I'm going to make…_

"I can guess now, for example, that you've just realised I've been going easy on you…"

Sanji blew an intricate swirl of smoke to the side casually, "Huh, nothing I haven't dealt with before, or don't you remember the trial on Cloud Island?"

"Yes, I seem to remember you getting pretty well pulped until that rubber boy came to help out, did you forget that bit?"

He knew he was being provoked, but Luffy was the last person who would be able to tell them apart if he called for help; if he couldn't tell when Foxy was pretending to be Porche in that ludicrous mask… well.

"You're slow."

Sanji was yanked back into the fight as he moved to the defensive again, avoiding and rejecting blows; if his opponent knew how he would attack, he'd just have to turn his own against him. Seeing what he was about, the reflection began an assault of another sort.

"You know that you'll never be what people need, don't you?" Another blow, "don't you remember the Baratie? Huh, you can't cook better than that old man," another, "and you'll never be able to fight like him," another, "and you'll certainly never find the All Blue."

Doing a double twist to wind up and slam into his foe, Sanji found himself glaring into his opposite's eye, his foot blocked by his mirror's ankle. He grinned ferociously.

"Playing mind games?" He blew ash into his reflection's eye, creating an opening, "I'm disappointed", a solid 'mutton mallet' flew into very familiar waistline. The black suit skidded to a halt, using the soles of his shoes to drag himself to a stop before he hit the door leading to the store room.

"I didn't think I'd go so low… oh, wait, that's right. You're not me!"

Blood was spat aside as the mirror stood upright again. He didn't look in the least bit affected, as he tapped the toes of his shoes on the wooden panelled floor.

"Nice job, but I'm bored now. I think I'll go and play with your friends."

Sanji barely recognised the move as it flew so fast before him, the identical pair of legs moving as a blur towards his body.

_First rate mincemeat!_

It was a hard move to block. He knew; he'd mastered it, after all. He was doing well until he saw one of the blows directed towards a collection of large frying pans.

_Shit! If he hits those, the others are sure to hear…!_

He was left without a choice, flinging out a dark limb he kicked aside the right foot before it contacted the metal, but couldn't prevent the other from slamming into his leg just below the knee. It was all he could do to keep from crying out in pain as he slid several feet towards the exit behind him, the floor burning the skin of his neck with friction.

"Didn't know your own strength, eh? We might be physically and mentally matched, but I've got an advantage over you, you see," a cruel smile lit up his face, "Your emotions are your weakness. I'm not so pathetically soft hearted. Comes in useful, not having a soul."

Sanji felt a cold shudder run along his spine at the thought; so, he really _was _a demon.

"Just admit it, I'm the better man."

Grunting with exertion Sanji flailed both legs around in a spinning handstand, whirling into the foe like a tornado of ink. He connected a few good shots, taking satisfaction in the fall his mimic took as he landed, resting more weight on his good leg, but otherwise steady, smiling grimly.

"I think we both know that's not true. Leave the lying to Usopp."

An ominous chuckle greeted him.

"Yes, that sharp-shooter really is something, isn't he? Come on, admit it, you admire him; his ingenuity, and his courage despite his obvious terror. Franky's a genius too, who would have imagined a teenage boy saving his broken body by building a new one out of scrap? Then there's sweet Robin, so clever and wise, with all that reading, and such a terrible past behind her!"

The mirror had raised itself to its feet. Sanji could feel where this one-sided conversation was going, but couldn't find anything in his heart to interject, and was caught off-guard by a surprise shot to his right. He went to defend it, failing to recognise it as a feint; his twin suddenly span down on one arm and sent the opposite leg crashing into his left arm. He felt something splinter. The cigarette fell from his mouth. _That bastard! He must know better than anyone that I don't fight with my hands to protect them! _Biting down on his lip he let out a stifled groan of agony, trying to blink spots of pain out of his eyes as he staggered back to avoid a follow-up attack, cursing his predicament.

"Not to mention Chopper, such medical brilliance! And so positive, after his history… and then what about your favourite swordsman? You know you'll never earn his respect. He's intelligent when he's not being stubborn, and even then it's never without a good reason. He's just as strong as you, more-so probably, but then, that's not difficult to do," a sharp snap kick to the throat forced him to glance off a work surface.

Retching for want of air he sent a kick back at him, his reflection blocking it easily as Sanji felt his heart sink lower with every reminder of how useless he felt he was. "And of then course there's your captain, oh yes, our Luffy, the unbeatable rubber man. He's a complete idiot of course, but he's so irrepressible, determined, confident, strong," he landed a savage kick with each of these words, taking Sanji three steps closer to the door leading outside, to the crew, "he's more of a man than you could ever hope to be." A last shot slammed into Sanji's already damaged right leg, which promptly fell from beneath him, forcing him into a half-kneeling position. Even so he tried to resume a spinning handstand attack. The momentum was insufficient however, as he was grabbed by the ankle and flung into the corner of a storage cupboard, the corner driving itself cruelly into his back before he dropped to the floor.

"More of a man than you could ever hope to be," the words were repeated scathingly.

Through a haze of tousled, bloodied blonde hair Sanji found himself looking at a curiously recognizable pair of neat black shoes inches away from his nose. He didn't even feel the pain this time, just the sensation of the back of his head hitting the corner of the cupboard simultaneous to an incredible impact from the front, and the very distinct feeling of warm liquid trickling down from his scalp. The taste of it in his mouth was reprimanding, the iron tang filling his sensitive palette, bittered with his thoughts. He felt himself propped up by a hand to his neck against the wall. His hands and legs hung limply about him, refusing to respond to his desperation through his despondency and despair, his spirit falling ever lower as he realised who was next on the list.

"Oh yes, and what a man you dreamt you'd be, but tell me, did you ever really imagine," his own voice chuckled down at him, "really, truly imagine, that you could ever be good enough for that girl?" Sanji breathed hard against the hand, his eye widening a little, fixing his adversary with a glare that would have splintered glass.

"That gifted, talented, beautiful, charming, intelligent Navigator? The thief with enough guts to steal from pirates? The girl who took the weight of a terrorist organisation far greater than her own power to protect her entire village, at the age of ten? Oh, and that face…!" The mirror sighed into his face with ecstasy, the air filling Sanji's flaring nostrils with the rich scent of wine and cigarettes, "such a face! Those, eyes, that hair, those lips… but you'll never be good enough for those lips, will you Sanji? As much as you praise her, you'd never dare to sully them with a kiss from your fetid, wretched, devious mouth, would you?"

His reversed face filled his eyes with a malicious grin, vindictive and spiteful, knowing his victim was already full of remorse for the crimes he was charging him with.

"You might have beaten a few of them, but those enemies were right, saying those things. That you can't protect anyone. That your chivalry is naïve, foolish; that Kalifa woman almost killed you, oh, and then what?" He was laughing with merciless amusement verging on hilarity now, "Your angel had to come and save YOU! You! Her knight in shining armour! Ha! Nice punch line!"

The laughter that consumed the duplicate chef was loud and pitiless in his ears, ringing through the galley, echoing off the metal utensils. He felt the hand about his neck suddenly tighten as the laughter stopped abruptly.

"You're a love-struck fool. As if your dreams can save someone. You can't even save yourself! FROM yourself! The very KING of fools!" He made a mocking bow, as Sanji could feel the air cramming itself against his throat in a bid to breath against the strangle hold, his pulse hammering loud in his ears as he leant as strongly as he could against the grip, his eye glistening with hatred and grief. The doppelganger leant in close to him, but filled with revulsion as his was, he didn't back away, feeling the breath of every word on his face.

"You're a fool and you'll die like a fool, and I'll make sure that every soul onboard this ship goes the same way… and the best thing of all? They'll all die thinking it was you! Their little love-cook; good old, faithful, brave, self-sacrificing, hardworking Sanji. Imagine the betrayal! Oh, such disloyalty, the dishonour! The eternally unanswered question of 'why?' as they shuffle of their mortal coils."

He placed his mouth next to the broken cook's ear, his breath hot against Sanji's perspiring skin as he whispered softly.

"It'll break poor Nami-san's heart…"

* * *

Something erupted deep inside Sanji's chest as his pupil snapped to a point of absolute fury. 

With a bellow of passionate rage forcing its way past the throttling hand there was an explosion of black material, blood and leather shoes as the mirror-man sailed backwards away from the door, down the entire length of the galley, completely taken by surprise. He crashed to the ground, the air knocked from his lungs. Struggling up to his feet he found himself too slow, as somehow the original was already upon the copy in a livid rage.

Three kicks, six, a dozen; the clone found himself repeatedly smashed to the ground and wall, feeling ribs crack and limbs shatter with the wrath of each lashing blow.

Finding himself flung into the side of the cooking surface he could see he was trapped between an impending leg and the fire, the stew having been upset by the collision, the carefully prepared food spilling out onto the floor and filling the air with delicious aromas. Choosing the fire he lent backwards, his neck quickly caught up in flames as the dark blur tore the air mere millimetres above his skull. Yelling he threw himself to the floor, hands about his collar as he rolled and thrashed to put the blaze out. A foot of iron crashed down onto the front of his shoulder, and as the sternum snapped, digging into and puncturing his trachea, he knew he had lost. Another blow sent him skidding along the floor, his life already threatening to ebb away from his eyes, blood issuing from countless areas of broken flesh and bone.

Sprawled on the ground he felt something sharp slicing into his back beneath him. A last hope occurred to him and he grabbed for the object, as the heavy footsteps of the murderous chef approached him, stopping just short of where he lay. The fire from the stove lit up Sanji's face with an eerie blue light as he glared down, his face contorted into a terrifying aspect as he looked down at the face of his impersonator for the last time.

His voice was low and dangerous as he snarled every word with ardent resolution.

"I will, _never_, break Nami's heart."

Sanji spun around to perform the killing blow. The reflection moved quickly, heaving himself off the floor and plunging the razor-sharp kitchen knife deep into the left portion of Sanji's chest from behind. He gave a desperate, triumphant, gasping laugh which died in his throat as the blonde-haired cook continued unabated, as his foot took his opponent directly on the side of the neck, sweeping him downwards in a powerful arc, twisting in a complicated but elegant fashion, causing his head to jerk upwards suddenly as his body continued to descend.

The snap was audible.

The reflection was dead before he hit the ground.

Sanji looked down at the mess of limbs with distaste, gradually aware that his blood was spoiling the wooden planks of the floor.

"Hnh, hope that doesn't stain…"

Moving over to a small cupboard above the grill he withdrew a small vial that smelt faintly of the markets of Alubana. He shifted the corpse aside carelessly with his foot as he moved over to the cocktails, miraculously unspilt, and completed his task. Wiping his hands on a rag he removed the traces of blood from about his visage, checking that there weren't any spots on his shirt that were visible. "Got to look presentable for good company, after all," he muttered.

Taking up the tray he left no time, losing the valuable crimson liquid rapidly as it was. Only hoping to see her one last time before he could let himself die he calmly but smartly stepped out of the door.

Smiling.

* * *

Wow. Long, huh? If anyone can tell me how to make the spacing of paragraphes longer or shorter I would be very grateful, as the pacing could be greatly improved if I could adjust the spaces without using the separating bar... 

All characters property of One Piece.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4: Tangerines and wine

The last chapter. A short and, hopefully, sweet finale. Thankyou for reading!

* * *

From the jolt with which he awoke Nami cold tell that Sanji had just encountered one of those falling dreams; the kind where you distinctly feel that sickening lurch of gravity, as if you've missed a step, and find yourself hurtling Earthwards only to find yourself landing amongst the pillows and sheets. She walked over to where he was currently scrubbing at his eyes in a bid to shake the sleep and perspiration from him. She sat as she had done the previous night on the edge of the bed, busying her hands with something. 

"You're up earlier than I thought you'd be. Sweet dreams?"

"Not so much…" he half-laughed, his face covered by his hand, "though, I did have this really good one that I woke up next to the most beautiful girl in the world in the middle of the night…"

She flicked his left ear upbraidingly.

"Good to see you're feeling more like yourself again."

She carried on with her task as she continued to speak, "Chopper gave you another dose of morphine after you went back to sleep last night, he thought you wouldn't wake for another hour or two so you'll probably still be feeling groggy under its effect. Luffy keeps trying to get into the kitchen to make you a cake, but we've got Franky and Robin keeping tabs on him," Sanji relaxed a little, relieved that his galley might yet survive his captain's well meaning vivacity, "Zoro's warned me on pain of absolute death not to tell you that he was happy to hear you'd made it," a curly eyebrow arched in some surprise, "Usopp's still avoiding the edge of the ship and mirrors like the plague, but otherwise we're all keeping each other sane, or rather, as insane as usual. You haven't missed too much." _Even if we all missed you_, she finished mentally.

Sanji looked confused, "Why's Usopp acting so strangely? What's wrong with the mirrors…?" His brain was still too sluggish from the drugs to connect the dots, but Nami soon cleared things up, relating the history of the Mirror Sea and the talk they had had before the fog. She paused for a long time after this, and, facing away as she was, Sanji was shocked to see the slender back shudder with suppressed tears. Alarmed and bemused as to this onslaught of grief, he managed to painfully leaver himself to a sitting position, placing his good hand her shoulder.

"Nami-san?"

An audible sob racked her body but she kept her head turned away from him, blinking the tears away from her eyes furiously, denying herself the privilege of crying.

"It's all my stupid fault… if I'd come and told you… you might, might not have…"

Sanji felt the peculiar sensation of his heart both soaring at the merest idea that Nami cared for him in the slightest, and sinking at seeing her so distraught over such a menial thing as his life. Laborious as the effort was to turn his body into a full sitting position besides her, he managed to swivel to sit on her left to comfort her with his right arm, the left being encased as it was in fresh plaster. He was relieved when she didn't recoil from his touch.

"Nami-san… you didn't know… the kitchen doesn't have any mirrors, and you were right to concern yourself with the crew first. You're a marvellous tactician, I just messed up."

The redhead was not to be appeased however, as she punched herself on the leg with agonizing shame and humiliation. How could she have been so stupid?

"I'm such an idiot, wanting you to be able to cook because you like to, instead of thinking of the possibilities…" she flung herself forwards over her knees in anguish and fury, her hands over her head. It now became obvious what she had been doing, as Sanji could see the orange coloured peel of a tangerine poking out of her clutched fingers, beads of juice forming as she clenched her hands tightly. His words stumbled over his tongue as clumsily as the thoughts that tripped over each other in his mind.

"Y-you… you knew I wanted to cook the stew…?"

She nodded beneath her arms, "I smelt it when I woke up… and I knew you'd want an opportunity to make us a first proper meal, for the Thousand Sunny…"

Which made him more lightheaded, those words or his injuries and the exertion of sitting upright, he couldn't tell, but he reeled in dizziness.

Suddenly aware of his condition, Nami quickly caught at him before he fell away backwards across the bed in a faint. He gave an inadvertent gasp of pain as her hand came into contact with where the knife had entered his back. Distressed she attempted to lower him back into a lying position to rest, but he pushed himself back upright with a brave effort.

"No, no, I'm fine… honestly…"

There really was no talking sense into him sometimes, as she looked at him hopelessly, and for the first time, openly guiltily. She knew she'd always abused and taken advantage of his kind manners before, but she did genuinely feel bad for it: perhaps she hadn't at first, but after his actions on Drum Island, she had begun to feel much worse at her behaviour, knowing what he was willing to do, and especially after the encounter on Enel's flying arc it had taken enormous pains not to reveal how her conscience was making her suffer, and how grateful she was towards him. Even after that first fight he had undertaken for her at Arlong Park, when he'd only just met her, barely even knew her, he'd undergone incredible suffering for her. Fighting a merman underwater… she had scarcely believed it when her sister had recounted the news. She couldn't afford to reveal that she cared for him, even slightly, fearing that his already overly affectionate behaviour towards her would be amplified; it was well meant, perhaps, but it certainly was inconvenient and annoying at times. He must have caught the concern in her face this time though, as a pitiful smile looked back up at her.

"You mustn't worry about someone like me, Nami-san, I'm just a loser. I just don't want to see you hurt…"

She couldn't help it, the idiot! Feeling the hot saltiness finally cascade over her cheeks she held herself angrily against his chest, unaware of the leap his heart made and the expression of astonishment on his face as she buried her face in his shoulder.

"You big goof, stop talking like that! Of course I worry about you, knuckle-head!"

She knew his internal injuries were terrible, but she just couldn't force herself to stop holding on to him, wracked so completely as she was with guilt and remorse. Fiercely clinging to him, she became aware that he was trembling. When she looked at his face however, it wasn't filled with joy at her actions, or the pain of his wounds, but instead was the very picture of agonised concern.

Using his tie he wiped some of the tears from her eyes with a tenderness previously unknown to her. Combined with the smell of smoke it reminded her of Bellemere, causing her eyes to fill with even more pearls of water.

"The last thing I want to do is make you cry, Nami-san, please…" his voice was so quiet she could hear the waves outside, "Seeing you cry, because of me… I might die. It hurts so much… Please," it sounded as if his heart really was falling to pieces, the emotion in his intonation was so pure, "please don't care, not for me."

A fresh onslaught of tears sprang involuntarily from her beautiful eyes as she retaliated, finding herself shouting at his face, a face that she had feared she would never see laughing or talking again only two days ago.

"You think I can do that?! You say you might die, what, again? How many times have you died for me, Sanji? Huh? _How many times_?!" She took him by the shoulders, completely inconsolable despite his look of dismay. "Why do you do it? What reward have I ever given you? Is my selfishness so attractive to you? WHY?!"

"Because I'm in love with you."

She felt her shaking come to a stop as she stared at his face, her breath coming in short stops, the tears finally arresting themselves in shock. Not, 'I love you', but…

"…in love?"

Though he didn't want to look away from that face, that face that had always been his dearest treasure, never to own, only to see, he couldn't bring himself to look at her eyes, his voice low and tremulous.

"I know, I fling myself at women, I'm a hopeless flake, a flirt, a complete no-hoper. How you can put up with me I can only marvel at, but I can't bring myself…" he took a shuddering breath, the truth grating on his own ears," I can't let you know what you mean to me, you'd take me for mad. I can only hope by behaving like this towards every woman I see that I can hide what I really feel… I even put the façade on when I talk to you… God," he spat in disgust at himself, "I'm so weak, I can't even be open to the person I've loved since I laid eyes on her. Can't you see? I'd rather be a servant, a slave, albeit an unworthy one, to you, than have you be scared or hurt by my affections. I can't afford the worst to happen… I mean, suppose…" This time it was him that was on the verge of tears as he looked back into her amazed features…

"Suppose you started to _like_ me?"

By now she was utterly confused, but the idea seemed to horrify him.

"If you started to feel for me, then you'd be vulnerable, can't you see? Only like this, I can be warm towards you without earning your favour- that prize is for someone who can give you what you deserve, someone who's worthy. Someone who's better than me… I can't let you get attached to some piece of shit like me."

Nami felt herself slide backwards onto her heels in disbelief. She was facing him kneeling between his legs on the edge of the mattress, holding his failing body up by the tops of his arms, but neither noticed this, only looking at each other. It was bad enough that he'd given his strength for her so many times, but now he was sacrificing his own happiness? His own heart?

"Not worthy…? Not worthy for me? A cat-thief? A heartless skank who's so shallow that she prizes money over the outcome of a fight? A pathetic, selfish coward like me?!"

Sanji flared with indignance and pained sadness, "Nami-san don't talk about yourself like…"

"Oh shut up you stupid bastard," and with that she yanked him towards her by the collar of his shirt and sealed her mouth over his.

* * *

Sanji felt his heart stop completely, and for a moment he thought he felt Nami's stop as well, she was as stunned as him, but with a violent lurch it set about going again, fluttering like a crazed bird trying to escape from a cage. Realising what he was doing after a dazed moment of absolute euphoria he tried to back away. Nami held him firmly, lips refusing to give way, and eventually, tentatively, she felt him kiss back. 

If she had been expecting him to be rough after all his womanizing, she was surprised. It was like drinking starlight. He was so gentle, it felt as if he was directly transferring all of his heart to her- all the care, the pain, the love, transformed into so simple and kind a gesture as a kiss. He was as soothing and saccharine as honey, the rich smell of fine wine, seafood and tobacco lulling her senses as he returned the caresses of her mouth. Sanji was undoubtedly a wonderful kisser.

She felt a tear run down from his face onto her own and softly pulled away. His expression was a mixture of gratitude and abject shame.

"I'm sorry," he tilted his head downwards, "I don't deserve this, deserve you… I can't blight you like this…"

Nami sighed, frustrated.

"I don't give a damn what you think you do or don't deserve," she took a segment of the semi-crushed tangerine and pushed it into his mouth impatiently, earning a deep blush from Sanji as she wiped his face clear of tears with her delicate fingers, the smell of old paper and ink mixing with the tang of the acidic but sweet fruit. "I'm just taking what I want."

She gave him a mischievous grin.

"You can't keep gold away from a thief for very long, after all."

She placed her hand over his heart.

Hard put not to choke Sanji managed to swallow the fruit before she gently pushed him back onto the mattress, carefully swivelling him about so his body was stretched along the length of it again, all strength having left him. Replacing the sheets she moved to the door, lingering for a moment,

"You'd best try to get some sleep again. Chopper will tell me off for disturbing his patient, and I want you to recover as best as possible, do you hear?" She said it as more of an order than a question. Sanji nodded feebly, words stolen from his breathless mouth.

"Good. Now stay put. I'll see you later." With that she turned about and shut the door after her. Standing with her back against it for a moment she allowed herself a deep breath, then moved away, savouring the taste of cigarettes and red wine with a smile and a sigh, finally letting herself blush a deep magenta. She felt as if a large bubble of light had swelled up within her chest, lifting her almost right off the ground as she made her way up to the galley.

Someone had to make him some lunch, after all.

* * *

Please review if you've enjoyed my fiction, I appreciate all feedback and criticism, so long as it isn't flaming... Any thoughts or opinions on my writing more material would also be great to hear! 


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